lashes keep
batting
like fan keeps
me cool
like old yarn slips
from spool
as tailor’s
busy chitchatting.
abstract
on a hand
scrawled note
rest words better
unspoken,
seeping into
the page–
like they’d never
been written.
not a jumper
but i like
to fly,
no real reason to
return to
ground–
i glance around
to find
us
floating eye
to eye.
one pure thought
away from
gold..
so i’ve been
taught
to know what’s
real from
not
the kind of
livin’
that’ll keep me from
growing old.
silence surround
us
and please kill
the lights,
wish to drift into
backdrop
so bright it
blinds-
so warm it
glows
into a dreamscape
so formless
it flows.
heat lines on
the ocean
blur our trip to
the other
side,
while vessel melts
beneath our
thighs.
come in crashing,
i’ll catch you
gladly
and steady us
both,
but won’t hold
the full
load–
’cause i’m too
shaky..
and this i
know.
i drown my hands in
childhood streams-
to feel water cleanse
the guilt and
regret,
then splash it on
my face,
to remind me
i’m not
dead.
we used to sing
like no one
heard
us,
but heart song
still chimes
in ears
of
those seeking space
in which to rest
their spears
and truly
listen.
tilt the compass,
run towards
us..
arms
motioning-
inviting those lost
into their
clasp
to defend
all..
from decays
of past.
hands in the garden 
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